Insomnia
by theladyknight
Summary: Returning from the digital world was not easy for any of them.  But it’s always easier to come to terms with the grief, the sorrow, and the uncerainty when you’re not alone in your feelings. SoraYamato friendship, set directly after '01 sorato hints


Disclaimer: Still don't own Digimon.

**A/N: Any run-on sentences and fragments are purely intentional. This is a little darker, a little more psychological, and a lot shorter than what I normally write. Imagine this as a missing scene, somewhere between '01 and '02 to help explain the sorato connection. A lot of angst and friendship between the two in here and a tad bit of sorato if you squint. Happy reading and please review!**

Insomnia  
By theladyknight

**S**he could see it in his eyes.

Sure, the physical signs were clearly evident; it didn't take one of Koushiro's superior intellect to figure that out. Wrinkles of emotions—confusion, uncertainty, apprehension, realization—littered his face despite the fact that he, like she, had hardly stepped into the teenage years. The dark bags that pooled together under his eyes contrasted heavily against the pale of his skin. It was his eyes that really told the tale, though. They spoke the truth of just what he had been through, what she had been through—what _they_ all had been through.

His eyes had taken a glossy, hard look. Emotions bottled up inside him, stuck behind the shield he had cleverly crafted, and she was sure that to anyone else, he just looked incredibly tired, overworked, or simply indifferent to the heres and theres of the bustling market around them. She could see something more when she forced herself behind the blue, tinted with the familiar red hint of sleeplessness and blood—a symbol of those whose sacrifice allowed the children to be standing where they were today. The look of loss, of suffering, of despair, of regret, of confusion that was so prominent in her own eyes mirrored that of Yamato's.

Even five days wasn't truly enough time to adjust.

A bed was nothing like the damp forest floor. Her mattress, soft and foreign in feeling, like a delicate luxury that one was not supposed to receive, bore absolutely no resemblance to the occasional itchy grass or bitter silt, sand, and uncomfortable ground that had served as their usual resting places. The eerie darkness of her room was unsettling. Illuminated only by the lights of the outside nightly activity and security, she felt as though she were trapped, locked up, confined alone with her thoughts and vulnerable to any attack her nightmares and illusions would put forth during the night. Hadn't the brilliant light of the millions of fiery stars and planets, which each of them dearly hoped included their own beloved earth, constantly keeping watch over them and serving as a subtle reminder that darkness and evil had not snuffed up all the light, all the hope…hadn't that been a more comforting sight? Where were all the smells? Gone were the lingering traces of fresh land, the clean, untainted salt of the sea, the fresh berries and fruits, the foreboding mist of evil, the sweat of fear and possible failure. Fresh laundry, familiar floral aromas, and the general, indescribable scent of "home" overtook her more acute olfactory sense.

But was this home anymore?

Sora couldn't sleep at night; neither could Yamato, but it wasn't his slightly ruffled, semi-glazed appearance that alerted her to this. No, there was something, something more she knew _she_ could see yet would be completely invisible to anyone who hadn't gone through the things they had, seen the things they'd seen, felt the shards of innocence and youth be ripped away so brutally. And, she could only postulate, this must then have resulted in five endless nights of awareness and sleeplessness for Yamato, the exact kind of plague that was currently haunting her.

How could she sleep, though?

Everything was normal, rational, and quiet here. Things were where she last left them, necessities only a fingertip away. There was no constant fever of despair and the uncanny lurking around every corner, ready to pounce, capture, or kill, whichever came first. This was how things were supposed to be. She was eleven, going on twelve, full of life, energy, and ready to explore the remainder of her childhood and slowly delve into the maturation that would lead her full steam into her teenage years. Yet, somehow, she felt like she had long since crossed that boundary.

How long had they even been there?

Days, weeks, months, years maybe…it all blurred together in the end, really. Who honestly could say they knew the exact amount of time spent in the world that had become their surrogate home? A home which, at the moment, seemed quite a bit more real, safe, and existential than their place back here on earth. Yamato's eyes shone brightly with the same longing her own eyes leaked out, the longing to return, to escape, to recall, to remember.

She knew why she couldn't sleep at night and needed only one more glance at Yamato's façade to glimpse into his thoughts, as well. This wasn't the first time she had run across a fellow member of their little elite group since they'd returned on the cable car. Each person she'd encountered shared the same faraway look, the longing, guilt, and uncertainty burning like a smoldering fire in everyone's eyes.

That's where the similarities ended among the chosen children. They'd all been lumped together, some friends, some odd acquaintances, and some complete strangers. Some had been total opposites, others parallel beings, others, yet, outcasts who were more alike than any ever imagined. And this showed with how they coped.

Taichi was his normal happy-go-lucky self, channeling all his optimism and wearing it proudly on his sleeve. There was no doubt in Sora's mind that he hurt and probably let an occasional tear fall when it was safe to drop the brave face but was doing his best to look strictly at the positive. Mimi took a similar approach. While she wasn't so adamant about hiding her emotions or tears—at least she hadn't been when Sora had last seen her yesterday—she was still walking around with a large, proud smile on her face, shopping bags clutched in her hands and head held high in honor of her partner. Koushiro took an analytical approach. He poured his emotions into his laptop and his laptop poured back answers or, rather, the start of answers to the millions of questions brimming from within the boy and hopefully the beginning of a way to return to the digital world. Jyou found himself in the same boat. Though he was the only one she had yet to still see, word of mouth traveled quickly, especially with someone like Mimi present. He had been researching, Mimi said, and though not finding anything of importance yet—as there was nothing published on the digital world—Old Reliable knew that one day, there'd be a big discovery. Surprisingly, Takeru and Hikari were taking it the best of them all. Perhaps it was their age. Perhaps their optimism. Perhaps the light and hope they bore. Sora knew Yamato was wishing, just like she, that their spirit would carry onto those who had not yet grasped onto the encouraged attitude: the two of them.

Quite honestly, she blamed it on the hole of darkness in which they had both fallen. While it was true they had both escaped, stronger and more heartened than ever, that shadow of a doubt still hung over their heads. It was weird not waking up to know a long day of both emotional and physical turmoil awaited them. It was weird not seeing 20-foot monsters with a vendetta against them providing the daily wake-up call. It was weird not going to bed, uncertain if tomorrow actually would come. It was weird not having the others around, being privy to anything from constant bickering to fistfights to emotional hugs and handshakes.

It was just weird being here.

She had _found_ herself in the digital world; she wasn't the only one to do so, but she knew it had impressed itself on her more than most of the others. The significance of her crest, of love, of Piyomon and the bird's devotion to her and Sora's devotion to her Digimon, all tied together into a little circle of life. But it was more than that, more feelings and emotions and actions and relationships that had brought her to where she was today.

Throw in a sense of camaraderie she had never been accustomed to before. And don't forget the dependency on others for her own survival. What about the isolation of being alone with her thoughts and the ability to act upon them, whether good or bad? Likewise the choice between what is easy and what is right. And how about the plethora of feelings flowing out of her in the cave of darkness—hadn't that impressed itself deeply upon her, especially her escape through the guidance of Jyou, Yamato, and Piyomon?

Sora could see the exact feeling in Yamato's eyes, completely open and revealed for her to see, and knew that this was the key factor keeping him awake at night, just as it tingled in her. And she knew it reflected for him to find in her own eyes.

What if it was not enough? What if this self-discovery simply stuck to the digital world? What if it vanished here, all the steps of internal struggle, the guilt complexes and the sacrifices and the hurt and the pain and the tears and the joys that finally combined to open the door to their inner souls, the person they each truly were who was waiting for the door to open so they were finally free? What if it was all a waste?

She was vaguely aware of the conversation around her; her mouth moved for her when asked a question, usually responding in yes-no answers. Sora could tell Yamato was following in that exact same fashion. It apparently had come time to bid farewell. Her mother and Yamato's father were finishing up pleasantries, gushing about what a coincidence it was to run into each other here in such a busy market in its daily rush hour and how everyone has to get together again and reminisce.

Her mother started to lead the way forward yet Sora did not want to go. It was refreshing in a way, to stand in an almost comfortable silence with Yamato, to look up into his eyes and know that she wasn't alone, that she wasn't the only one feeling exactly this way. They say misery loves company, but she was sure this wasn't why she felt a sense of longing not to leave his presence.

They'd had an odd relationship in the digital world. Comfortable silences filled many of the gaps; he wasn't much of a talker, but that strangely never bothered Sora. Yamato was someone with his own problems to deal with, his own skeletons in the closet. Just like she had. She could always find comfort in being around him, safety, a sense that even when things were plummeting out of control, there would be a change of pace, a course of action, simply because he was here beside her, going through the same thing she was, and understanding that she knew he understood.

Sora moved to follow her as Yamato slowly began to walk forward. His hand brushed against hers, gingerly reaching to hold it. He clumsily slipped her hand into his, fingers intertwining briefly. This was a new sensation for them both, she could tell, but entirely completing the void that was missing before.

She still had her friends. She was a new Sora and yet still held onto the remnants of old Sora that would never vanish. She could be strong yet dependent. She was guilty yet completely innocent. She was alone yet not alone.

His eyes flashed towards hers, and immediately she was comforted, knowing the same revelation, a realization of sorts had dawned on him as well. She squeezed his hand a little tighter, and he returned the pressure before slipping his hand out of hers and continuing on his way. She trotted ahead, too, feeling like the epiphany between the two had taken minutes when it had only been a few brief seconds.

Her steps felt lighter, and even though five days were clearly still not enough for her, she could feel the beginning steps of recovery, the slow cycle of acceptance and healing beginning to roll forward. Slow steps, baby sets, yes…that was true, but steps, nonetheless. It would be a long road ahead for them all. Conquering their grief, their insomnia, and their doubt would be the first step, the first path on the road they all would be traveling down together, some more slowly than others, in order to really understand their adventure and gain the optimism that they could embark on it again _together._

Sora smiled a genuine smile for the first time in five days; after all, aren't conquering and discovering what they all do best?

Fin

**A/N: Yes, I am alive, and yes it has been almost a year since I've last posted, and yes its been over a year since I've updated, and yes I'm eternally sorrowful and repentant, and yes I probably don't deserve reviews for being such a dismal author, but if you find it in your hearts, I would love to hear what you think about this! **

**And for those of you who read my other stories, I'm slowly working on **_**Going to the Chapel**_**. I had nearly 3,000 words written and then scrapped it, deciding I didn't like it—not the first time I've done that with things I've written in the past few months, either.**

**That being said, this was kind of thrown together the day before **_**HP and the Deathly Hallows**_** was released, in light of my own insomnia, and worked on yesterday after I read straight through the early morning hours and then battled more insomnia after I finished the book, and completed today after a solid night of sleep with no insomnia. Funny how things work out.**

**Please review!!**


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